


3 Times Griffin did not meet David, and 1 time in which he did

by Goodbyemyfancy



Category: Jumper (2008)
Genre: 4 times, Drinking, First Kiss, In Public, Kissing, Licking, M/M, Touching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-26
Updated: 2014-02-26
Packaged: 2018-01-13 20:49:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1240333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Goodbyemyfancy/pseuds/Goodbyemyfancy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Griffin becomes aware of David, and finally meets him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	3 Times Griffin did not meet David, and 1 time in which he did

**Introduction**  
It had been a total shock when Griffin had first noticed the presence of another jumper in New York, and since that time he had periodically checked on how things were going with the tall honey-haired American. It was actually impressive the other jumper was still alive – they appeared to be nearly the same age, and Griffin hadn’t come across another jumper that had lived so long. It was even more impressive given that the American jumper seemed to be totally clueless when it came to safety and jumping. It’s like he didn’t know about the Paladins and their epic holy war; didn’t know that there were people out to kill him. Which made Griffin wonder exactly how this unknown jumper was able to be so public with his jumps without being caught. It was as if he had protection surrounding him, some person other than Griffin who knew about this jumper and was keeping a careful eye on him. And for these reasons, Griffin found himself nearly compelled to track the New York jumper all over the world.

 **The First Time**  
It figured. The bloody American seemed like catnip to any women and men in his proximity. Griffin had followed him to a popular bar, The Bamboo Nightclub, in Glasgow, Scotland, that was having its weekly 80’s retro night, and even as the other jumper checked his coat, he was being hit upon. Not a surprise really. The other jumper was handsome by conventional standards, and the low-slung black jeans paired with the clinging soft blue v-neck cotton t-shirt he was wearing brought out the colour of his eyes. He tracked the other jumper throughout the club, watching with dark suspicion as the American kept publicly jumping, small jumps, but jumps nonetheless.

Griffin took a risk by moving close to the American as he leaned across the bar to order a drink. Griffin preferred some dark ale, but of course, the seemingly materialistic jumper ordered the most expensive drink on the menu, the club specialty being a “Big Bamboo Cocktail” with a hand-carved bamboo stick for stirring the drink. Griffin nearly coughed and sprayed his beer all over another customer when the American handed over a 20 pound note, telling the bartender to keep the change. Hell, the tip was more than the drink itself and that was one way of calling unnecessary attention to yourself.

Griffin watched from the shadows as the other jumper moved onto the dance floor, some red-headed woman clinging to his arm possessively and looking pretty damned self-satisfied. The next track started, a classic Depeche Mode song that so perfectly captured and defined the other jumper that Griffin could not hold in his laughter, surprising the other club-goers around him.  
 _  
Everybody seems to look your way now  
(Everybody seems to look your way)  
Everybody wants to know your name  
(Hey, hey, what’s your name)  
Feeling bright just tonight  
Hear them say you’re out of sight_

Wanting to stay unobserved and unnoticed, Griffin got his amusement under control and walked away heading towards the bathroom, having had enough of the other jumper’s idiocy for this specific evening. Just before he jumped, the door to the men’s room opened, and Griffin started off in another fit of laughter as the song came to an end, the bouncy chorus blaring,  
 _  
Hey you’re such a pretty boy (you’re so pretty), Hey you’re such a pretty boy (you’re so pretty), Hey you’re such a pretty boy, You’re so pretty (P-R-E, double-T-Y)._

 **The Second Time**  
Pretty boy, for all his overt materialism and attention seeking behaviours, actually had decent taste in literature. Griffin had followed him into a high-end large scale book store called Powell’s located in Portland, Oregon, and much to his surprise, the American spent his time perusing many of the classics that Griffin’s mother had insisted Griffin read even as a child. He seemed restricted to English publications, which made Griffin feel superior given his ability to speak in several languages. As his parents had taught him, Griffin knew that translations of books into English often lost the subtle nuances that could only be understood by reading the text in the original. Griffin make sure to keep away from the other jumper, not wanting him to become alert to Griffin’s presence. Even though he seemed somewhat oblivious to the world around him, the American was still a jumper and might have some awareness (conscious or not) when he was being studied and watched.

And of course, as with the club experience, the American was well dressed and attracting the appreciative attention of other customers and even some staff members. This time he was more upscale in his taste, wearing a forest green button up shirt with thin black stripes, paired up with dark charcoal fitted dress pants. The top three buttons were undone, revealing a teasing glimpse of tanned skin and a sprinkling of chest hair.

Seeing the jumper walking towards the sales clerks standing at the check-out, Griffin quickly grabbed the one book that caught his attention – ‘Smoke and Mirrors’ by Neil Gaiman. Griffin had first become interested in Gaiman as an author when he discovered the Sandman comics, which transferred into an interest in the author’s novels, films and collaborations. Griffin had most of his novels already in his new lair, but ‘Smoke and Mirrors’ was one he had most wanted to replace after the Paladins had bombed his last safe hole, destroying a good chuck of his book collection and his beloved comics.

Speaking of which, there were two Paladins out there who were going to have a more unpleasant dying experience than their comrades, because of their involvement in the destruction of his prized collection. No sharks for them – Griffin had more ways to invoke the painful deaths that they so rightly deserved.

Griffin waited in line a few people back from the other jumper, but still wound up next to the American being served by the adjacent clerk. It was close enough for Griffin to see that the top book on the other’s pile was Noam Chomsky’s ‘Media Control.’ The fact that the other jumper was versed in political economy theory and enjoyed reading Chomsky for pleasure rather astonished Griffin. He had pegged the pretty boy to be into more mainstream trade paperback fiction, and instead, here he was buying Chomsky – and a few other non-fiction books dealing with archaeology, world history, and travel guides to foreign countries.

With a smirk, Griffin knew that the American was buying some of the books to help him create some new jumper spots around the world. But much to his surprise, the jumper pulled out a bloody debit card, of all things, to pay for his books. Talk about overtly attracting attention – that act alone would be like a red flag to a bull with the Paladins. However, as he handed over cash for his beloved ‘Smoke and Mirrors,’ Griffin could clearly hear the other sales clerk as he handed back the debit card, thanking the other jumper for doing business with them as always.

Just as Griffin turned to leave, he overheard the final comment, “It’s been a pleasure to see you again, Mr. Rice. We hope you return sometime soon. I’ve ordered the other books you requested and I should have them for you in a few weeks.” Griffin shook his head as he left, still wondering how the hell this Mr. Rice managed to stay alive when he kept breaking so many of the rules that Griffin’s parents had driven into him since he first jumped in front of those tourists all those painful years ago.

 **The Third Time**  
It was damp and chilly in Griffin’s lair, and the thought of another moment lying on his small bed trying to read and stay warm under the covers was too much. Throwing the blankets aside and carefully replacing his book on the metal book stand he had built, Griffin went to his computer to check for some warmer climates. Saint Thomas, in the Virgin Islands, was reading in the high 80s F with no advisory weather warnings in effect. Perfect. He packed up a knapsack with towels, sun-screen, his sketchbook and some snacks and water. Changing out of his leather jacket and dirty cold weather clothes, Griffin tossed on a pair of orange shorts and one of the few clean black t-shirts he had around and pulled out his sandals and wrap-around sunglasses. A day on the beach with sun and warm breezes and new places to draw seemed like the perfect alternative to his present condition.

He signed in pleasure the second he arrived, jumping to an isolated beach a bit further away from the resort areas. As promised, the weather was ideal, sun shining on pure white sand and a beautiful deep blue-green ocean. Griffin took his time wading along the shore, slowly making his way to where there were some tourists flaked out on their towels and people playing beach sports. While he hated people in general, he knew that being around people was something that he needed to do in order to feel normal and part of the world around him. It was like his decision to walk instead of jump all the time – it kept him grounded in reality.

It wasn’t until he found himself an unoccupied chair and moved it under a tree into the shade and got himself comfortable that he recognized one of the nearby beach volleyball players as being Mr. Rice. His jaw literally dropped in astonishment when he realized the tall attractive player he been subtly checking out for the last few minutes was the American jumper. Of all the places in the world that Griffin could have chosen for today, it had to be the one place that the other jumper had also chosen.  
Griffin swore to himself mentally for a few minutes, pissed that the mysterious Mr. Rice was in his life even when Griffin wasn’t stalking him, and trying to calculate the odds of this being a sheer coincidence.

However, his brain kept uncomfortably reminding him that until he realized who it was he had been checking out, Griffin had been quite content to watch the gorgeous volleyball player running barefoot and shirtless back and forth across his side of the net, admiring the way the sun glistened on his oily sun-screened muscular chest. He had long legs and the dark olive swim shorts he was wearing perfectly matched his already tanned bronze skin tone. The fact that the shorts were tied a bit loose and with all the running around, had slid down enough for Griffin to see his abdominal cut and hip bones, made Griffin wish he had chosen somewhere, anywhere, except this beach.

It was bad enough that the other jumper was a superficial idiot with no sense of safety, but realizing he was attracted to this same idiot was nearly more than Griffin could stand. He hadn’t had a real relationship since E.V. when he was a teenager, relying upon the occasional one night stand with a random stranger every few years to keep himself feeling like he was normal. Since E.V.’s betrayal, his moments of actual interest in others were rare and scarce. So why did it have to be the other jumper he found himself drawn to today? Of all the attractive people on the beach, why did no other grab his attention?

Muttering to himself with a small scowl, Griffin decided he might as well take advantage of this spontaneous crossing of paths to make a sketch of Mr. Rice. He had been thinking for a while that it might be helpful to have a picture of the other jumper to add to his wall of Paladins and helpers and the occasional person who caught his attention. So he pulled out his sketchbook and began making the initial outlines of the American’s body as he jumped and turned and laughed with the others in the game. At least, this was his justification for drawing the tall jumper as he looked today, shirtless and sweating and gleaming in the bright sunshine.

The first one turned out fine, and soon Griffin was making several quick sketches of the American, trying to capture the fluidity of his moves. He was fast and quick on his feet, perfectly balanced until as he ran across the white sands. After getting a half dozen quick studies out of the way that he felt were good, Griffin lost himself in adding the tones and shadows and details.

When the fading light finally stopped him from being able to see his drawings, Griffin realized he was alone on the beach, the volleyball players and the sun-tanning tourists long gone. He got angry with himself, knowing all too well from personal experience what could happen when he lost track of the real world and got caught up in the intensity of his sketches. It was not safe to stop focusing on the war with the Paladins. The fact that it was Mr. Rice who distracted him did not help his mood.

Griffin was even more pissed when he got up to pack his belongings, and realized he was sunburned wherever he had not covered up. A pale patch of skin covered the upper part of his legs where he had been resting his sketchbook against his knees all afternoon. Griffin cursed the American mentally for a long time when he got home and realized his face was the worst – brilliant scarlet and itchy, his nose peeling, and massive white raccoon eyes from wearing his sunglasses. Really, it was the other jumper’s fault for taking up too much space in Griffin’s mind. Still, it didn’t stop him from taking his favorite sketch from the day and propping it up near his bed. The rest went and joined the corkboard collection he had drawn over the years of various people he knew or had encountered in his journeys around the world.

 **The Fourth Time**  
Yet another day of following the mysterious Mr. Rice as he went about his affairs. Keeping track of him was difficult sometimes, because Griffin didn’t dare follow the other jumper through the fading jumpscars he left behind, knowing he might arrive literally right on top of the other man. However, when he stayed in New York, it was easy for Griffin to stay on top of his pursuit and stalk the jumper wherever he went.

It was evening and the pretty boy has obviously dressed himself up for some event. Clad in tailored black pants and a deep burgundy button-up shirt, the American looked stunning, as always. Griffin had to admit the other man did have a solid sense of fashion and excellent taste. Griffin trailed a few blocks behind and was surprised when Mr. Rice suddenly turned left into an open art gallery called Monkdogz, the front windows brilliantly lit with what appeared to be a bright purple and dark red fire. He waited a few moments, checking to make sure it was not an invite-only event, and then walked in.

The gallery was having a major opening for a collection of new work by some high name chic NYC painter, which didn’t interest Griffin nearly as much as the open bar. He grabbed a glass of white wine and wandered around through the tight crowd looking at some of the abstract work hanging from the walls and ceiling. One looked like a cat had puked up a hairball on some canvas and was then painted silver, and Griffin laughed loudly when he checked the artist information for the piece and realized it was entitled, “Cat’s Vomit Under Moonlight.”

And then he choked when a voice behind him said, “That’s just atrocious. They call this art?” Even as he turned, heart pounding, Griffin knew who it was – and sure enough, the person talking to him was none other than Mr. Pretty Boy Rice himself. Up close, he was even more attractive, with startling blue eyes and a genuine welcoming smile. Fuck, he even smelled good – a heady mix of citrus and sandalwood. And he seemed even taller in person, looming over Griffin and making him feel almost tiny by comparison.

Griffin nodded his head in silent reply, uncertain as to whether the other jumper had realized he was being stalked, or that it was all some weird joke on Griffin that his obsession had noticed him and decided to chat. After all, it was April Fool’s Day. The other man stuck out his hand, grinning as he offered, “Hello, I’m David. Nice to meet you. Sorry to intrude but you looked as grossed out as I did.” Griffin took the other man’s hand automatically, distantly aware of the warmth and softness of David’s skin. Finally, a first name to go with the mysterious American Mr. Pretty Boy Rice – now known as David. Griffin nodded again, before realizing he was expected to say something back. “Yeah, it’s a sad state of affairs when painted cat’s puke has a price tag in the thousands. Must be a sign of the Apocalypse. I’m Griffin, by the way.”

David stood there for a second, looking at him intently with his head atilt, before asking, “Have we met before? When I first noticed you I thought you seemed very familiar but I can’t place where.” Griffin was very sure by this time that their meeting was some cosmic April Fool’s Day prank, because David truly was acting as if he had no idea that Griffin was another jumper and had been tracking him around the world for several months. Griffin quickly replied with a shrug, “No idea, mate. I’m here visiting some friends while on break from my studies. I’m from London and the opening caught my eye as I was walking past. I like art and I definitely like free drinks.” David openly laughed in reply, his head tipping back to expose a long neck, and Griffin couldn’t help but take the chance to stare at the other jumper, soaking in all the details he had only ever seen from a distance.

“I wouldn’t call most of this art, but I am also appreciating the free drinks. And the free snacks,” David added as a galley member walked by with a plate of appetizers in hand. Snagging another glass of wine for each of them, David kept conversing with Griffin, acting as if he was sincerely engaged in Griffin’s opinions and thoughts. It was clear that David was still trying to determine where they might have met before, but Griffin was not helping him out.

The thing was, Griffin hadn’t expected David to be so interesting to talk with. True, he had known from his research and observations that David was personable and charming, but Griffin hadn’t been ready for the intensity of David. No wonder he could blend in anywhere, meet people easily, and pretty much pick up anyone who caught his eye. The reality was Griffin liked David, and by the undercurrents and subtexts to their current interactions, David liked Griffin as well. In what way, Griffin still wasn’t certain. Not a lot of men had ever approached him so directly before – nor women for that matter.

David could easily talk about a variety of topics, all with an illuminating perspective. His large hands moved constantly as he talked, illustrating the pattern of his thoughts in the air. As they wandered around drinking and checking out the gallery, David started upping their contact. He started by casually touching Griffin when he had the chance, a meeting of fingers as David handed over yet another drink, a touch on the shoulder or the small of Griffin’s back to direct him through the crowd. Griffin could feel the heat of David’s hands with each small moment of contact, and it made him happy and a bit flushed. The most captivating aspect of David was his sapphire eyes, sparkling bright blue and consciously aware of the world around him. Whenever he looked at Griffin, David would hold their gaze, head tipped a bit sideways as when they first met, an earnest and lopsided grin to accompany his words.

Which is why when David casually asked Griffin if he wanted to go for drinks somewhere away from the now crowded gallery, Griffin immediately said yes. David beamed even more at his positive reply. As they moved through the crowds towards the exit, David stopped Griffin momentarily with a small tug on his shirtsleeve. “One second, I have an idea. Wait here.” It was lucky David stood head and shoulders above most of the art patrons, because otherwise Griffin would have become lost in the crowd very quickly. Instead, he leaned against the wall with his arms crossed and observed as David made his way to the bar. After a few minutes of chatting up the bartender, Griffin saw David discretely slid something over, and observed as the bartender, in return, handed over a large paper bag with the gallery’s logo on the side.

When David returned, Griffin immediately guessed what the transaction had been about. David’s bag contained two bottles of white wine tucked inside, perfectly chilled from being behind the bar. With a smile at Griffin and a hand on his shoulder, David leaned in to say over the noise, “I thought we could find somewhere more private to hang out and have a few drinks – if you don’t mind sharing and drinking from the bottle.” Griffin nodded in agreement, unable to say anything just yet because David was too close, too much in his personal space and in his mind.

From the gallery they wandered away down the street, casually discussing everything and nothing, until they came across a small green park with a playground. They sat down together on one of the scattered benches, legs and knees touching, and David wrangled the cork out of the first bottle of wine before handing it over to Griffin for the initial tasting. Griffin knew how to properly taste wine thanks to his parents, and was impressed with the quality of the wine David had managed to negotiate.

After his first mouthful, Griffin hazarded a guess, “Californian Chardonnay? Santa Barbara region?” David grinned, impressed, and nodded as he cheerfully replied, “You obviously know your wines – you have it bang on. I prefer whites myself – California is fine when I am in the USA, but otherwise I like whites from the Ontario region of Canada, Italian spicy wines, and German sweet wines.” Griffin tipped the bottle in a silent salute at the compliment and took another deep swallow before handing it back over to David.

The two kept talking, their conversations a meandering path of getting to know one another, though Griffin was cautious in what he shared with the other jumper. He kept to the back-story he used when meeting the occasional new person – in art school in London, England, currently on break to visit several art museums across the USA and staying with friends. David mentioned in passing he was a banker, which Griffin thought was a hilarious cover story for a jumper.

The longer they talked into the night, the more comfortable Griffin felt, especially as they drank their way through the first bottle of wine. For a rare change, he felt safe and willing to let his guard down a bit with David. They were soon sitting close and facing each other, knees brushing, unintentionally mirroring each other’s position. Somewhere in the midst of a conversation about Egyptian archeology and the Valley of Kings, David slid his arm along the back of the park bench and scooted in a bit closer, giving them more direct contact as his arm casually draped across Griffin’s slender shoulders. It was obvious that David was getting ready to make his move. Or so Griffin hoped.

Sure enough, as soon as David removed the cork from the second bottle, he clinked the necks of their bottles together in a familiar way, and toasted, “To meeting each other tonight, and bonding over bad art and great wine.” Griffin smiled and replied in Spanish, “Salud!” After they had both had a large swallow, David carefully took the bottles – the first now empty and the second nearly full – and placed them at their feet.

Looking over at Griffin, David must have been reassured by what he saw, because without breaking eye contact, he slowly leaned over and kissed Griffin softly on the lips, close mouthed. It was intense yet tender, and the two brushed their lips against each other over and over again for long minutes, soft promising kisses that made Griffin immediately hard. It had been so long for him, ages since someone wanted him, had taken the time to seduce him, and David seemed in no rush to push things along faster.

Their kiss was powerful, all encompassing. They kept touching lips together in small teasing ways until Griffin finally took the initiative, parting and invitingly opening his mouth, allowing their kiss to deepen. Griffin let out a contented sigh as David started exploring, their tongues touching and dancing against each other.

Griffin wasn’t sure where he was suppose to be putting his hands, but it felt natural to let them roam across David’s broad chest, his fingers brushing against the soft quality cotton of David’s dress shirt. He lightly stroked down David’s sides, and was rewarded with a quick intake of breath and a small involuntary bite to Griffin’s now sensitive lips.

Time slowed, the two men lost in the pleasure of sharing this small intimacy. Griffin nibbled on David’s plush lower lip, his teeth gently scraping the delicate skin and resulting in a soft moan from the other jumper. David reached out and caressed Griffin’s jawbone, gently brushing along it with his thumb. Griffin felt exhilarated, his skin afire everywhere David touched him. When David’s hand slid further back to tangle in Griffin’s thick waves, Griffin exploded in a field of sensations that near overwhelmed him. Without a conscious decision, Griffin grabbed David by the arms and yanked him in close and began drowning them both in a frenzy of exploration.

David’s kisses at once became more frantic, sped up and less controlled. He opened his mouth wider to take in more of Griffin, his large hands running restlessly over Griffin’s toned arms, up and down over and over again. Finally, with trembling fingers, Griffin slid David’s shirt up slightly, exposing a strip of his stomach to the cold evening air. David gasped and instinctively pressed into Griffin’s embrace, a small barely audible moan choking his throat. Griffin daringly traced a line around the edge of David’s pants, his tips of his fingers sometimes teasingly sliding down inside to the headed skin just below. When it came to rest nearly on top of the button to David’s pants, the taller man held his breath for a minute, waiting. He turned his face into Griffin’s neck and began nuzzling it when Griffin finally slid his roughened hands up inside of David’s shirt, pressing his gnawed nails into David’s skin and leaving scratches. David’s teeth caught at Griffin’s neck and teased the skin, the tissue long ago scarred by the Paladins, with his tongue. They stayed like this, touching and tasting and biting and exploring as the night slowly shifted colours and began to lighten.

It was that magical time between night and dawn; the earliest part of the morning when it feels like no one else exists in the world. They had gone quiet for a few minutes, just watching each other, sitting so close as to be sharing their breath. Griffin raised a hand and with one finger, started drawing a circle at the base of David’s throat. The American swallowed hard for a moment, then stilled as Griffin let his fingers drift down, pushing the unbuttoned sections at the neck further apart. His mouth hovered near David’s, energy radiating off them both with anticipation. Slowly, deliberately, Griffin undressed David one button at a time until his shirt was three-quarters undone. The taller man was restless against him, only pausing when Griffin was leaving wet trails across his skin.

Uncertain and a bit taken over by the intensity of being physical with someone else – another jumper no less – Griffin started to lose the remains of his control. He left more nips on David’s sensitive skin, bites and bruising where possible. An ownership mark of bruised sucked skin making real this encounter of theirs. Months of following the American had not prepared Griffin for this world-filling need he had developed and he had to pin it down, make it his. As David tipped his head back with another cry of pleasure-pain, Griffin licked his way down David’s chest, enjoying the taste of sweat and wine and citrus that defined David.

Moving sideways, he took one hard nub gently into his mouth, and pseudo-attacked it with his tongue and teeth. Focused as he was on the sensations, he could hear David groaning with tension and Griffin was pretty sure that a few times David was panting his name and begging for more. Fuck, David’s skin was so perfect, soft and unmarred by scars and burns like Griffin had worn since starting in his childhood.

Hearing the braying of drunken locals coming close to the park, the two reluctantly pulled apart from their embrace. They were both panting hard, winded from their obsessive desires. They were touching foreheads, needing support from one another, unwilling to let the other go after being so open and exposed. David quietly begged as he whispered in Griffin’s ear, “Griffin, please let me see you again? Before you head back to London and school, if you have any spare time, that is.”

Griffin just smirked and kissed David softly on the lips, before jumping several feet away to stand and look at the astonished David. Griffin played it cute and gave him a wave and a nod before jumping back to his spot on the bench next to David. By the looks of his startled wide eyes and open jaw, it was clear David was flabbergasted and at a loss for words.

Griffin laughed softly and leaned in to brush another kiss from those soft now-swollen lips he had come to appreciate. “You’re not the only one who can jump, David. And you should learn to be more observant and aware of your movements as a jumper. Aren’t you scared of the Paladins at all? The way you’ve been acting the last few months makes it seem like you don’t care about them or the deadly danger that they pose to you.”

David sat there, still speechless, the knowledge that Griffin was also a jumper clearly taking its time to settle in. Griffin gave the taller man a huge heartfelt hug, and as he got ready to jump back to his lair after a few detours, he whispered in David’s ear, “My full name is Griffin O’Connor, mate, and I’ve been watching you for quite a while now. I’ve given you enough clues this evening about myself and where you might find me. Track me down and we’ll talk about having another date.”

With that, Griffin jumped away, smiling and wondering how long it would be before the other jumper found him. He hoped it would be soon. There was still so much to learn about the mysterious American Mr. Pretty Boy David Rice.

**Author's Note:**

> Griffin and David belong to Steven Gould and 20th Century Fox. I just play with them and return them only slightly bruised.


End file.
